After last week’s fuck-up with Zispin, I’ve gone back to wondering if I’ll ever be fixed. Not just depression fixed. Fixed fixed. I stare at people when they try to strike up a conversation, refuse to make eye contact, suffer the burning surety that I will never be accepted, so why bother? Where I had really felt myself begin to open up with other people I’ve fallen back on the grand old simultaneous hungering for contact and fear of contact.

I close my eyes now, and open them two years ago. The sun is on my face. There are only two colours in the world, green and blue. Water laps, insects buzz, and the wind sighs soft in my ear. The only ...

I subscribe to the idea that we are the byproduct of a dumb, deterministic universe, although I stop stop of acceptance of full-on causal determinism. Everything, everywhere came about because the phy...